The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 27

The lower basement was alive with voices.

Edward and Blaine were back from their search of the city and with them they brought the wounded, the barely-alive and the walking dead. Each face echoed the last as they filed in, carrying with them the stench of death and despair.

I went among them, silently tending wounds but without any clean running water and with limited medical supplies on hand, the best I could do was bandage them up and leave them to bear the pain.

One young woman refused to let me help her. Clutching at her side where a ragged tear ravaged her flesh and blood had saturated her torn shirt; she shook her head vehemently, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. Her companion, a slightly older-looking man, his hair tied back into a loose pony-tail and greying at the temples, laid his hand gently on my arm but withdrew it quickly as if touching me burned his fingers.

"You smell like those devils," he said by way of explanation, smiling apologetically.

The shame made my face redden. "I was married to one," I muttered. "It's pretty hard to cleanse yourself of the stench after that."

The man assessed me with new interest. "So it's true, then? I'd heard rumours that Vánagandr's wife had been turned but thought it nothing but make-believe and idle gossip.”

“Vána-what?”

“Vánagandr. The Great Wolf,”he said, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, his eyes darting about as if fearful someone would hear him. “He truly is a beast among beasts, saw him with my own eyes I did, standing head and shoulders above the others, like some great black-furred demon.”His intense gaze bore into me. “You are really his wife?”

“Was,”I frowned. “Was his wife.”

He said nothing for a moment, sidling over to where the injured woman had crawled in an attempt to put some distance between us, before looking back at me, his face suddenly wary and cold. “The Varúlfur are very territorial,”he said, wrinkling his nose with distaste. “They don’t readily give up what is theirs, whether that is property, land or people. You’d do best to remember that.”

He turned his back on me to tend to the whimpering woman at his side but I remained crouched on the cold, dirty floor, staring at his bent form in dismay.

We made vows, Megs.

A feather-light touch on my shoulder made me suck in a breath and my head snapped up to find Harper standing there, his hand outstretched to help pull me to my feet.

“Come on,”he said. “Edward and Blaine are waiting, we have things to discuss.”With that he turned on his heels and walked away, heading towards the stairwell and leaving me to trail behind him, glancing left and right and feeling the weighty suspicious glare of those still unfortunate enough to be conscious.

On the ground level above, Edward and Blaine waited, together with others, only a couple of whom I vaguely recognised from the Gainsborough mission. Blaine stood by the doorway, scanning the courtyard outside, wisps of his blonde tousled hair lifting on the breeze that drifted into the Mills. When Harper and I entered the room, Blaine’s gaze gravitated towards me and he nodded and offered a small, brief smile. I was grateful to see the welcome in his eyes, although it seemed strange to see any warmth coming from the battle-scarred vampire. Of the four of Garrick’s team, Blaine had always been the most distant and had rarely spoken to me unless he had to. I had never taken offence by this. He had rarely spoken to anyone, but his loyalty was unquestionable, that much I knew.

As we approached, Edward turned, his face grim. He looked older than the last time I had seen him, despite of course having not aged at all, but the lines looked deeper, his skin more grey and haggard, his eyes beset with a heavy exhaustion that darkened the circles sagging beneath them.